People Who Carry Guns
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: Six weeks of waiting hinged on this examination. Mark wasn’t sure if he could wait one more moment; Mark and Lexie's first time after his accident doesn't go exactly as planned. Takes place in 5.14.


**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**  
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"_People who carry guns are more likely to fire them."_ – Mark Sloan, _Beat Your Heart Out_

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Owen _really_ shouldn't have been smiling like that.

Not when he was up close and personal with Mark's junk.

Mark gave a slight, uncomfortable shift, trying to ignore the feeling of his pants around his ankles. He kept his tongue in his cheek and his eyes on the ceiling, swaying slowly from side to side in the increasingly awkward silence. _Quick_, he had said, but Hunt surely was taking his time. Admiring his handiwork, a job well done, Mark supposed. Hopefully not admiring anything else. Mark cringed, distracting himself by studying the stark décor of the examination room.

Nonetheless, he waited somewhat patiently for Owen to be done. Mark answered all of his questions – the more concisely he spoke, the sooner he would be out of this situation with a clean bill of health, with any bit of luck.

Six weeks of waiting hinged on this examination. Mark wasn't sure if he could wait one more moment.

"Alright, you can pull up your pants," Owen finally said, straightening. Mark almost tripped over himself in his desperate grab for his jeans, and he followed Owen to the door as he tugged on his zipper.

"So we good to go?" he asked his surgeon as they emerged into the hallway, feigning nonchalance though he was ready to quite literally jump out of his skin.

Owen flashed him that tiny smirk again, pulling up the corner of his goateed cheek. "Yep." Mark's heart leapt. "Use it wisely," he added with the pretense of giving sage advice, raising his fiery red eyebrows.

That was that. End of story.

Just before they parted ways, Mark reached out and clapped Owen on the shoulder. No matter how discomfiting the whole ordeal had been, Mark owed him that much.

Owen _did_ fix his penis, after all. And Mark Sloan happened to like his penis very much.

With a spring in his step, then, he was off. Mark was on the prowl, determined and ready. His jaw was set as he brushed past everyone else who was filing through the hallways of Seattle Grace Hospital. He often moved against the flow of traffic, but he didn't care in the least. He wouldn't be stopped until he got what he wanted. The tight feeling in the pit of his stomach told him so.

The big X on this particular treasure map? Lexie Grey.

(the mere thought of her name caused a tingle and then a throb, feelings that he could at last _act_ upon, and they urged him onward more quickly)

He found her just outside of the intern locker room, walking briskly away from him, pager in her mouth as the swept her hair into a ponytail. He closed the gap between them in four large steps (more like leaps) and, when he grabbed her arm, she jumped.

"Doctor Sloan!" Lexie exclaimed breathlessly after whirling around, eyes huge. Then, more calmly, "You scared me."

"Doctor Grey," he said curtly, heart quickening, "there's a consult I'd like you to join me on. _Right now_."

Mark sighed at the faintly confused look that crossed her face. He raised his eyebrows, exaggeratedly glancing at his crotch. "Oh!" Lexie yelped involuntarily before clamping her hand over her mouth. Still, her eyes were lit with excitement, and Mark could see them crinkling at the corners.

"So…consult?" he murmured, smirking. She nodded vigorously, hand still frozen over her mouth.

Immediately, he set off in the direction of the nearest on-call room. Lexie followed a cautious two strides behind him.

--

His fingers found the lock as he shoved her against the wall, lips crashing into hers as her fingernails dug into his scalp. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tongue forcing its way into her mouth, which she gladly accepted. His hips rocked against her, pinning her, and she gasped into the kiss. Six weeks was way too long.

"You're sure everything is in, um, working condition?" she asked raggedly when they separated, shrugging out of her lab coat and pulling her scrub top over her head. She flung it recklessly away and began fumbling with her ponytail, freeing her shiny dark hair.

"_Yes_," Mark hissed, wrestling his shirt over his head, "I'm quite sure." The words were accompanied by that grin, the one with the narrowed eyes and smoldering gaze. He was hard as hell – his jeans had grown uncomfortably tight, and the tension in his balls increased exponentially when she undid the clasp of her bra and tossed it aside as well, exposing her breasts. Mark swallowed, clenching his jaw. Seeing her only made him need it more. She hadn't let him see her naked in six weeks, a kind of unspoken rule that went along with their "no teasing" policy.

Now, though. He could look. He could touch.

His mouth covered her again, catching her lower lip between his teeth and sliding his tongue along it. He slid his hand up her bare stomach to her breast, and he shuddered violently when his palm dragged over her erect nipple. Lexie moaned against him, skimming her hands down his back, tracing the details of the sharply defined musculature just above his ass. That's where her hands traveled next; she slipped her fingers into the back pockets of his jeans, holding him as close as possible. The hard bulge in the groin of his pants pressed against her hip bone, and she knew how much he needed her. She didn't blame him at all.

Their kiss deepened, growing fierier with each passing second. Her palms were spread on his buttocks, rubbing against denim as he unconsciously gyrated against her. One of his hands were on her breast, the other behind her head, fingers weaved in her soft, smooth hair. His lips parted from hers and they began to roam over the creamy white skin of her jaw, down the column of her throat, and to the crook of her neck. She giggled as his scruff scratched her skin.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," she said playfully. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck and she shivered.

"I know exactly how long you've been waiting," he replied, smile curving against her skin, ice-blue eyes darting upward to meet hers. "Your wait wasn't as bad as mine, you know. At least you were allowed to…" His sentence trailed off into nothing as an incredibly high-definition image of Lexie masturbating popped into his head. The feeling in his gut surged. Sweat was beading on his forehead and in the curve of his lower back. "Take your pants off," he demanded, swiftly undoing his own and struggling out of them.

Lexie grinned at his reaction, untying the drawstring of her scrub pants. Little did he know that she didn't do it at all. If he had to wait, she would as well. "At least I didn't do it in front of you…make you watch or anything."

Mark gave her a pointed look, one that made a pleasurable chill run up her spine and back down again.

"Less talking, more taking your pants off."

The instant her scratchy blue pants pooled on the floor around her feet, their lips met again, and they staggered over to the bed. Lexie lay on her back, looping her arms around Mark's neck as he clambered on top of her, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of her shoulders. His boxer briefs were strained, holding back a very impatient erection. The fact that he could feel how wet her panties were against his thigh did not help matters one bit. His piece throbbed intensely and he groaned when she shifted her hips against him. He wouldn't be able to take this for much longer, he thought. All he wanted was to be buried in Lexie again, to feel her from the inside out, to feel her clawing against his back as he rocked inside of her…

Mark was so distracted by the images piling up in his head that he hadn't noticed Lexie removing her panties and, then, his underwear. What shocked him back to reality was her warm, soft hand gently gripping his cock. He jerked at the sudden tough, gasping sharply. She held him, not stroking, and heat spread in every direction from his groin to the rest of his body. His erection was massive – _with good reason_ – and angled up toward his navel. Slowly, she began to work her hand up and down, cupping his balls in her other hand. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his forehead against the back of his arm. He rose to his knees, straddling her, helpless against her stroking. His hips twitched forward, into the friction of skin sliding against skin, and he groaned deep in his throat.

"Shit," he breathed as Lexie's hand swirled over the head of his penis before diving back into the repetitive stroking motion. His every muscle was tense, craving release. His balls pulsed in sync with the rhythm of her hand. "Lexie." His voice was a hoarse, harsh whisper, and he forced his eyes open so he could look at her. "Lexie, stop, or I'll…" He didn't let himself finish the thought for fear that saying _come_ would trigger it. She removed her hand, holding both of them up in a position akin to surrender.

"I'm sorry," he continued, drawing his eyebrows together. His speech was broken, interrupted by gulped, panted bursts of air. "I'm sorry I can't…" He shook his head. His words were on the verge of incoherent. "I just need to be inside of you. Now."

Lexie smiled softly, comfortingly, at his severe desperation. He looked almost pathetic with desire, eyes narrowed and eyebrows pulled together. She held his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly and quickly. "Go ahead," she told him, breath tickling his ear. His heart leaped and his stomach tightened, all at the same time.

Her arms found his neck again, back arching, chin tilting toward the ceiling as she waited for him. Mark's body was shaking, heart pounding, groin aching. Lexie wrapped her legs loosely around his waist as he knelt between her legs, positioning himself to finally push inside of her. Lowering onto one elbow, reached down and grasped his erection, ready to guide himself into her.

Before he could, he froze in place. His face went blank. Lexie watched him; it was like the world moved in slow motion. His eyes squinted and his face contorted, chin tucking against his chest. His entire body tensed, muscles clenching. The pressure of his hand on his cock caused it to twitch and pulsate. He turned his head to the side, eyes closed tightly, and he shuddered quite hard. He couldn't stop himself. It was too late. The urge was both involuntary and debilitating. The spiral swallowed him.

Lexie realized what was happening and acted quickly: grabbing him, hugging him tightly, holding him against her, kissing him. He groaned weakly into her mouth for the duration of his orgasm. It was a long one, and definitely a powerful one, as Mark was completely paralyzed the entire time. When it was finally over, his every muscle relaxed and his body slacked. His weight came to rest limply on top of Lexie, his head pillowed by her breasts. Lexie soothingly stroked his wiry hair, and he began to breathe again, trembling lightly in the aftermath. Heat evaporated from his skin, partly from exertion.

But also partly from embarrassment.

When he finally managed to regain his ability to speak lucidly, in a rough, worn-out voice, he said, "I'm sorry. That's…" He strained to lift his head and look at Lexie. The orgasm had leeched all of his energy. "That's never happened before," he expelled on a breath of air, knowing how lame it sounded. His gut was heavy with shame. Lexie's heart broke just a little bit at his vulnerability and illusion of inadequacy.

She hushed him gently, stroking his upturned cheek as he rested his head on her chest again. Her fingers felt cool against his face. "It's okay. You're fine. Relax," she told him softly. "You're shaking."

"It's just…" He stopped before he said anything. What could he say? Maybe he lived in a dream world, but he never thought this could happen to him. Not to Mark Sloan. His hand moved languidly to the curve of her hip, making sure she was still there.

After six weeks, he had failed. He had failed _her_.

Lexie sensed this sudden, jagged droop in his mood. "Mark," she continued quietly, raising her head to kiss his sweaty forehead. "Please, don't get all down on yourself." She winced, realizing the error in her words as soon as they hit the air. He noticed as well, and flashed her a very self-conscious look. She backpedaled. "I'm just glad you're feeling better." She forced a laugh, but an awkward silence still hung in the air. It was an unpleasant novelty, and neither liked it.

She spoke again when his breathing finally began to regulate. "I know this might have been embarrassing, but it happened once. And it was completely understandable why it happened. Six weeks? Come _on_." He lifted his head the slightest bit to look at her, begrudgingly listening. "I promise, this doesn't change how I feel. I'm not disappointed. You're still better than every man I've slept with." She gave that a quick thought. "Combined, I'd say." The tiniest hint of a smirk developed, creating one tiny wrinkle at the corner of his mouth.

"And it's not just the sex that's good," she said, with thinly veiled shyness in her voice. "It's this, right now. Holding you. And the talking and the laughing when we couldn't have sex. It's…" She stammered for a moment. "It's not just the sex."

Mark was on his elbows now, gazing down at her. She was blushing. "I won't tell anyone. I promise. Not for gossip, not for blackmail. I promise not to damage your reputation."

They both laughed at that. It was just as unexpected of a statement to Lexie as it was to Mark.

He relaxed, then, taking a deep breath and gently resting on her again. She squirmed to get comfortable on her back. "Let me know if you want to go again, okay?" she said, closing her eyes.

"_Again_? Do you have _any_ idea how much that took out of me?" he asked with mock seriousness, smile breaking out. Lexie's heart swelled with relief. Normal Mark. "What _you_ took out of me?"

"Well, what can I say?"

When suddenly he was on his hands and knees over her, lips against her skin, starting between her breasts and traveling slowly to her navel. She giggled, grasping his hair in her fingers. "What are you doing?"

He moved, and his mouth jumped to the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "I might be done for a while, but I can still help you out." She moaned as his tongue traced an unidentified pattern on her skin. "It's the least I can do. You deserve it, you know? You waited too."


End file.
